


listen to the night time fall

by Siriusstuff



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:55:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4126149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusstuff/pseuds/Siriusstuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As they fall asleep Derek and Stiles have a little conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	listen to the night time fall

**Author's Note:**

> This is the very first fanfic I've ever written and my first post to AO3. There are more to come but I thought I'd start out small and not very ambitiously.  
> The title comes from a poem by Stephen Cosgrove.

“This one,” Derek said, just above a whisper, his eyes barely open, his head against Stiles’s chest, “’S one of my favorite ones.”

He set his fingertip on the mole just to the right of Stiles’s belly button. He pressed down with no weight and circled round it.

Stiles had a hand nested in Derek’s hair, softly stroking. His eyes were closed.

“And this one here.” Derek moved his finger a little farther away and farther down, to where Stiles’s torso joined his thigh, and where another tiny mole rested right at the brink of the inviting V-shape, one side of it, that formed there. “I love this one too.” But Stiles was ticklish there, so Derek hardly touched it. Still Stiles jolted the tiniest bit and grunted.

“Sorry,” Derek whispered, through a smile.

“Why don’t ya jus’ make a map,” Stiles said, his voice thick as sleep drew near.

“’Don’ need a map,” Derek answered. “’V’ memorized ‘em.”

“Have not.”

“Mm- _hmm_ ,” Derek insisted, however much one can insist that close to falling asleep. Then he reached down till he felt Stiles’s bushy pubes and started scratching there as softly as Stiles was scratching his scalp.

“T’ bad there’s no moles on m’ dick,” Stiles said.

“But there’s freckles.”

“Shuddup.”

“There _are_ ,” Derek giggled, running a finger along the underside of Stiles’s dick, stopping about halfway and slowly tapping the finger there. “There’s a freckle right ‘bout there.”

“So full a shit you are.”

Giggling again, more like rumbling, Derek asked, “Why wouldn’ I know my boyfrien’s body?”

“Not fair cuz your skin’s flawless, no lan’marks.”

“They’re not flaws.”

“What?”

“Your moles, not flaws.”

“They’re ‘ _beauty marks_ ’?” Stiles was striving for sarcasm, but the effect was significantly blunted.

“They _are_ ,” Derek asserted, with slightly more successful effect.

“Such ‘n asshole,” Stiles said, while spreading his fingers for a wider grasp of Derek’s scalp, which he massaged.

Derek countered by wrapping his hand round Stiles’s dick. The response was immediate, a thickening, lengthening. He adjusted his grip so his thumb, with the slightest of contact, stroked across Stiles’s _very_ sensitive glans.

Tensing, arching his back a bit, Stiles whined, “Derek, _no-oo-oo_.”

Now Derek’s giggle vibrated through the mattress. His thumb stopped stroking but still he held on, with a tender squeeze or two.

“Don’ wan’ me to jerk you off t’ sleep?” he asked.

“Wan’ you t’ kiss me t’ sleep.” A pause. “Jerk me off awake.” A shorter pause. “Or suck me ‘wake, better. I’ th’ morning.”

Sleep weighing him down, Derek lay still.

“ _Derek_.”

“Wha’?” He’d dozed off.

“ _Kiss_ me t’ sleep.” Voicing the demand, through an attempt at a pout, drained away the last of Stiles’s energy.

But Derek moved, shifting his position, bringing himself face to face with Stiles. He wrapped an arm around Stiles’s back and drew him close, so their legs meshed and their mouths met. A loud smooch ensued, then another smooch. Then one more.

“Mmmm,” Stiles hummed. “Love you, Sourwoof.”

“Love you, Stiles.” _Smooch_.


End file.
